


Love in Sights

by Moogs



Category: League of Legends
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 11:36:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12770229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moogs/pseuds/Moogs
Summary: i look at you now and i want this foreveri might not deserve it but there's nothing better.





	Love in Sights

                                                                          The city _of spirit._  
                                                                          and in its center ; he,  
                                                                          the entertainment that  
                                                                           swooned women that   
                                                                          wouldn't even know  
                                                                          what to do ** _with him_**.  

  
    An appearance askew to _the heavens_ , fortress-walls streaming with valid moisture– his eyes, so young, so frivolously blind, flecked and filled by the overwhelming charm of the chromatically stage. Haggard lights of some long-lost power still hang themselves from the under-belly of the floorboards. Charmingly-quailing, dry from prolonged suffering, menial bodies with seeping saps of exertion and anxiety staining the more fragile material of the entertainment. Their force-less strength had, over time, yellowed what should have been silver. He, with his ever-growing love for epic and rhyme, finding it akin to those moon-tide highs wherein the feeble sun would drift in far too early; the ineffectual, climb against his fans that came to watch him. He wonders ever so diligently if he had traveled to the right place for he, and _dear_ destiny whom stands only a few feet behind, had never left the comfort of this city– of one whose lands were far more full, plum picturesque, symphonic with red-breast whistles that tickle the limpid glass of metal sallow; **restlessly** rising with the enthusiastic boom of blooming wreaths by the winnowing sway. and in those moments. Something directed the charmers hues towards the entrance door to only be consumed by inspiration itself ; the hesitant bells of more modest blooms, who, disinclined by their own circumspect accessions to e'er heed the subtle, yet glorious-there reality of their hunger, are crumpled 'neath the ignorant weight of his steps.

  
                                                                          Her _lips_ , soothing silk–  
                                                                          Her **eyes** , rough-high with riches–  
                                                                          Her _**skin**_ , the dusk and silence of the cosmos.

  
                                                                          ".. Who _**is.. she**_?"

  
    Her face is ashore against linen silvers; their faces transient, lightened, by the wistful curves that breach the soft helms of the room, individually warmed by the slow cadence of his own chests as he dazes away from the others; his **body** moored, the male's feelings bound. Watercolour heavens are frolicking ‘pon own hides; gilded by the peak of the sun, its drunken course peppering squares and diamonds along the swelling sails of their craft until time passed too quickly– now _thieves_ of its splendour. Fast, faster than most; he was the furious spark that would light a beacon of frenzy to all those whom followed behind him, all inspired and aching to have their names as glorious as his own. "--- _Hm_." She whispers, her air of royalty disturbed, though to he, the ever-lover, her silence are a dangerous sweetness whose very existence is more valuable than all the stars he had **hoped** to touch in a juvenile dream. His _fingers_ are delicately balanced atop self-assurance, smoothing over blessed pimples of bronze whose alignment reflected the fluent constellations of leviathan itself, the freshening gales of his love rising _joyfully_ , sad and slow in their own tragic, yet blissful, continuity of falling for a stranger with a mere stare. 

 

                                                                          I need **to know** who _she is_.

                                                                                                                                             ...no,  i need _her_. 


End file.
